


And I Will Do The Same For You

by AberrantAngel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day, Barricade Day 2019, M/M, happy barricade day everyone, there are mentions of death and blood - Freeform, well I guess I'm a day early
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AberrantAngel/pseuds/AberrantAngel
Summary: We all know that the barricade boys die, but what happens next? Specifically what happens to Grantaire once he dies?Vaguely based on a Jack & Dean video as well as The Good Place.





	And I Will Do The Same For You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (?) Barricade Day!!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone in the Les Mis fandom for making me smile. I have never been more proud to be part of a fandom. (Yeah that includes you random anon, don't think I don't appreciate you!)

A vague memory of something horrible was tiptoeing through his mind. It wasn’t clear enough to discern just what horrible thing had happened. There was a haze in his mind that kept any information besides the basics out of his head. He was in a white room-- no not a room. More like a void. There were two simple folding chairs on opposite sides of a silver table. He spun around to view the rest of the blank reality and found nothing.

“Hello, Grantaire.” A familiar voice said behind him, but he couldn’t identify the speaker. It was on the top of tongue. He felt that he could recognize that sound anywhere… but not there, wherever there was. And the name it said, was even more recognizable. Oh, yes, it was his own name. Suddenly it seemed strange to have not known that.

“Who are you?” Grantaire asked admiring the figure’s golden curls and crystally eyes. So very familiar.

“I am the Judge,” the figure explained.

“No,” Grantaire swatted at the air around him, trying to clear out his mental haze. He felt a word fighting its way towards his mouth, “No, I know you.”

“Right, I like to take the form of someone who makes you feel comfortable. It tends to make this whole process easier,” the figure explained.

“What process? What is happening?” Grantaire was having trouble focusing. His head was reeling without his memories.

“Oof. There is really no good way for me to tell you this… but you may have died.”

“What? I’m dead?” That was rather shocking news considering the fact that he was still experiencing things.

“Like I said, I’m the Judge. You died and now I will decide your fate,” the figure faced him and trailed off, “...Are you okay?”

Dead. He was dead and for some reason that wasn’t the issue. Grantaire’s chest stung and he fell onto his knees. Tears were streaming down his face, although he did not know why. He couldn’t breath between sobs. Something had happened, not just his death. Something else, something worse than any feeling he ever knew. Yet he did not know that feeling. His tears had no motivation and he had no memory. His tears didn’t seem to find that fact important.

“Um… you're just dead… it’s not the end of the world or anything.” The figure kicked him in what was probably meant to be a comforting way. “Cheer up, sport, you’ve got eternity ahead of you.”

“Why can’t I remember?” Grantaire wiped away at his wet eyes.

“Oh we like to keep you away from your memories while your in judging. People with traumatic deaths, embarrassing deaths, things like that, remembering really screws with them. Well, in this case the opposite seems to be the issue. I mean I haven’t been a judge, really just 157 years so far, but I’ve never seen this happen. To be fair your death was sooooo much more interesting than what I’m used to.”

“What was it?”

“Yeah, so I can’t really tell you that. There’s rules around here and all the senior judges like to pick on the newbies, so I can’t afford to break them for you. So, if you could stop crying we could get to work a lot faster. You are quite the conundrum. Let’s sit.” The figure gestured to the folding chairs and silver table.

“How can I stop crying when I don’t even know what I’m sad about?” Grantaire pushed himself off the floor and made his way to the chair.

“Are you cursed with the inability to speak without asking a question?”

“No.”

“Then please, please stop asking questions. This will be easier for you if you’d just accept it and get it over with.” The figure snapped and a folder appeared on the table. “My secretary, Deb, went ahead and picked out some big events we could go through to help me make up my mind. This is the first one. Oooooo! It’s labeled: Childhood Trauma. That’s always good points for sympathy. A very good start for you.”

Grantaire was about to ask another question, to try to figure what was going on, but he didn’t want to upset the figure, so he decided on, “Okay.”

“Now, this is what people tend to find tricky. You’ll be back there, like in your body and everything, but its not real. I’ve just got to see you live it to form an opinion, you know? But don’t you worry as soon as I close the file you’ll forget everything again and return to this present.” Then the figure opened up the folder.

***

“You are a sorry excuse for a son.”

The only response was whimpering. Grantaire found his hand reaching up to his face where blood was dripping from his nose. His right eye would hardly open from the swelling around it. He could feel the tingly pain all over his body. And he knew. All he knew was this moment, this memory, this nightmare he lived.

“I’m sorry father, I could not be more sorry,” he heard his own voice say. But not his present voice, a younger, more innocent, version.

“Sorry does not repair you in the eyes of God. You disgust me. I will no longer pay for your education. I am sending you to live with your uncle.”

“I swear to you I will never do it again father, and I will apply myself to my studies, and I will--” another blow hit his face and the back of his head slammed into the wall behind him.

“You will stay quiet.” His father roared, “And you will consider what you have done. That boy you were writing to, his parents disowned him. He lives on the streets now. Look what your unholy actions have done.”

“No,” Grantaire cried out feeling the pain in those words more than any hit his father delivered.

“We sent you to boarding school to put you in line. But you squander your studies to indulge in the devil. You are lucky your uncle would even take you. Now pack your bags. I do not want to see you again.”

***

“Oh, damn, my friend that was horrible,” the figure looked at him teary-eyed.

“What was horrible?” Grantaire felt a phantom pain in his face, but as he reached up to touch it the feeling passed.

“Nothing important, you’ll know again soon enough. Wow, Deb really started me off with a tough memory.” The figure snapped and the file disappeared. “Sooooooooo. My preliminary thought is that I’m not sending you to enterenal torture.”

“What?” Grantaire snapped his attention back, “You’re judging whether or not I am going to heaven?’

“No, no, no. None of the earth religions are really correct. I mean some people are close, but no one's right. There’s really just eternal torture or that normal other place. But you’re doing great so far! Let’s move on.” Another snap and another file. “This one says: Motherf*cking As*hole. Oof, not so promising, Deb hardly ever curses.” The figure opened the file.

***

“Do you have some spare change?” A small child dressed in torn clothes looked up at him from the street.

A buzz of extreme drunkenness dulled out Grantaire’s senses, he told the boy, “Not for rats like you. Sons who can’t handle keeping the own families alive or keeping their own place in a house. Dirty creatures like you are the scum of the earth. You are what’s wrong with this world.”

He wanted to stop himself, but the words were tumbling out of his mouth and falling heavily onto the child who shrunk against the building. Grantaire himself was laughing and drinking even more from the bottle in his hand.

“You know what, maybe I will spare a coin if you can show me the nearest opium den. I need to escape this dreadful place and all these dreadful people.”

The memory froze as a voice echoed through it, “Shit, dude that was not good. You know what, let’s go back to the beginning of the day and see what caused this, maybe we can find some justification back there.”

The world blinked away and he ended up in his uncle’s house.

Grantaire had heard a loud thump from upstairs. It came from his aunt’s bedroom. The screaming that had been going for hours stopped. Everything was silent. Eerily so.

He cautiously went up the stairs until he was in the hallways towards the room. A faint sobbing and whimpering could be heard through the door. The door handle was cold against his sweating palms as he turned it. The scene hidden behind the oak barrier would have been better unseen. His uncle was cradling the dead body of his aunt in his hands. Her head was split open and bleeding onto the carpet. Grantaire froze in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean to,” his uncle said, “I’m drunk, I didn’t mean to push her. Her head… and… and the dresser...”

Grantaire ran from the house. He took the alcohol from the cabinet in the kitchen, always kept in stock by his uncle. He hid away in the streets drinking to forget for hours.

***

“I can confidently say that I have never seen a life like yours before.” The figure was now touching his shoulder.

“Why?” Grantaire said, this time feeling a slight buzz in his brain and emptiness in his stomach slowly fade.

“Poor child. You were definitely an asshole to that kid, but to be fair you had a traumatic morning. Looks like Deb though I wouldn’t look for the justification, but as a judge that is my job. Unfortunately others have been in similar situations and made better choices. My ruling is returning to a neutral status. The next memory better be good or you’re headed right over to torture town.”

“I only get three chances?” Grantaire looked the figure dead in the eyes.

“Look, there are sooooo many dead people and sooooo little time. Three files is all we’ve got time for.” This figure snapped and the final file plopped into the desk.

“Wait!” The figure begrudgingly put down the file, “If I am sent to eternal torture, will I get to remember my life?”

“...No.”

“But I need to know. It’s all building up against whatever metal dam you constructed in my head. My head feels like it's going to explode.”

“I mean what don’t you get about ‘eternal torture’. If it hurts you they have plenty of time to do it to you, so if not remembering hurts you, they’re not going to fix it.”

“Why can I remember some things?”

“Like what?”

“Like, I know that your actions and personality do not fit the form you have taken. I know you are not the person I knew.”

“But you don’t know who you once did either. Yes, that is how it works. And if you don’t like this form you could’ve just told me and I would’ve changed it. But since this is our last file it doesn’t matter. Now you’ve got me behind schedule, no more interruptions.” The figure flipped open the file on his desk.

***

He found himself walking down a cobblestone road, one he had walked down many times before. His jacket was red, which felt important. It felt like the red jacket was something he chose for a reason… what reason?

The only clear thing was that he had a job to do. He had said not to worry and that he was a man to be relied upon. He should’ve known that wasn’t true. Whoever he had promised should not have trusted him because even before he got to his destination, he had decided not to do as he was told. There was a reason deep down. He wasn’t just being useless. Or perhaps that just what he liked to believe. Some excuse he made up post-tragedy to mask his guilt. But what was the tragedy?

“Hello comrades!” He said, “I see you have taken to play games! Let me join you.”

Grantaire did not want to follow his own body. He knows what happens next, but he can’t remember. He just feels disappointed, no he feels disappointed in. He let someone down, someone he would never let down if it mattered.

One of the men said, “Are you sure that radical did not send you to recruit us to the cause?”

“Of course not! You should know me better. Now let us play dominoes.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Grantaire saw a flash of blonde hair peeking around the corner, but quickly turning away. Enjolr--  
***

“Okay, so you really haven’t been shown in the best light here, Grantaire.”

A lingering sense of uselessness plagued Grantaire, but it wasn’t fading this time.

“I’m sorry about this. I mean you seem like a pretty stand up guy. Sometimes people come in here and try to bribe or threaten me into not sending them to be tortured, but that just clears up the decision for me. Let’s get this over with,” the figure snapped and a button labeled ‘NOPE’ appeared on the table. The figure raised its arm, but froze at a word from Grantaire.

“Enjolras.”

“...What did you just say?’

“You look like Enjolras.”

“Why do you know that? You should definitely not know that.”

“How could I ever forget him?” Grantaire was silent, only remembering the name and the weight it held within him. But then something sparked in his mind, “How did I die?”

“I can’t tell you that.” 

“Yes you can,” Grantaire rose, “Tell me how I died.”

“...Based on your anger right now… I think you already know.”

And he did.

It was as if had never forgotten. He couldn’t recall what it felt like not to know. They had all died. Every single one of them lost in the foolish revolution. Enjolras looked at him, concerned, but it wasn’t really him. It was some random thing stealing his face not the really thing. Because the real thing… he was dead too. Grantaire could not remember the specifics, only that no one was left.

“Tell me he isn’t being tortured!” Grantaire’s fingers were clutching the edge of the table so hard that it hurt. “Tell me they’re all okay.”

“Don’t worry, all of your friends got through to the other place. I actually spoke with one of them Happy or Joy or whatever his name was. To be fair he had an easy case and was let through right away. Having 9 people sent to my section of this department in a day is strange. The break room was just buzzing about you guys.”

“So they’re safe,” Grantaire could finally exhale.

“Well, not exactly. The one whose form I’ve taken has been in his meeting void for hours. A coworker said he won’t shut up about some issues he has found in our system. He’s been in that room for waaaaaay too long, but he won’t let it go.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Grantaire smiled through his tears then realized, “Enjolras will not take his memories very well when they come back. He will have to remember losing the revolution.”

“He’ll get over it, even people with the worst deaths get over it. Besides he died for his beloved Patria or whatever. I read his information in the break room.”

A blaring buzz echoed throughout the void and a muffled voice said, “Hey, so we’re having some issues with memory regaining in regards the Subject 1. He is demanding to see the caseworker for Subject 9, so could you come join me in void three?”

The figure sighed, “Yeah I’ll be there in a second,” and before vanishing, added to Grantaire, “I’ll be right back, it seems Mr. Revolution is causing issues.”

Grantaire only had time to blink before the figure reappeared with another Enjolras.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked instinctively moving towards him like a planet orbiting the sun.

“You said his torture had not yet begun… why is he crying?” Enjolras asked the figure, “And could you please not look like me.”

“Ugh fine.” The figure morphed itself into a stout man with a gray beard and far back hairline. “And his crying is out of my control. He is just fighting our memory blockers too much.”

“Right, well I hope I can clear some things up for you… what was your name?”

“The judges in this section all go by Victor, and I don’t see what needs to be cleared up.”

“Victor, I was told that all of my friends made it into the other place besides one, and that one deserves it. I am here to represent Grantaire. On earth judges are required to hear a case from a defense lawyer and that is precisely what I am.” Enjolras was radiant with purpose, “First, Grantaire has displayed loyalty and kindness towards his friends for as long as I can remember. He helps Joly when he is sick and takes care of a poor girl's brother when she cannot. Second, he has never killed anybody. You let all of my other friends through, as well as me, and we have all killed, even if it was in the name of Patria. That makes Grantaire a better person than us already. Third, he was there to take care of someone in their lowest moment and make sure they were not alone.”

“Oooooo, now that last one sounds interesting,” Victor called out into the void, “Deb, send me that memory please.” Grantaire wasn’t sure what Enjolras was talking about, he couldn’t remember his life enough to pick it out, but before he could ask any question Victor snapped him into the memory.

***

The eeriness of silence on a battle front woke him up. His head was aching and opening his eyes was a great effort. When his eyelids finally rose the scene around him was still. He scanned the room, taking it in. His gaze landed on the squad of soldiers cornering someone. Grantaire got up to find out who it was and stumbled until he saw Enjolras standing defiantly.

“Take aim!” A soldier shouted and Grantaire had to do something.

“Long live the republic!” He shouted drawing everyone’s attention. “I am one of them.” He proclaimed taking his place next to Enjolras, the only place he ever wanted to be. “Might as well kill two birds with one stone.” Then turning to Enjolras he whispered, “That is if you permit it.”

Enjolras looked into his eyes with gratitude and Grantaire felt there hands intertwine. Enjolras had only a fraction of a second to smile at him before they were struck.

***

Victor had tears on his face, “That was so beautiful.”

Grantaire did not forget the memory, instead he stared at Enjolras.

“So now you understand what kind of person his is?” Enjolras would not be satisfied until he reached his goal.

“Of course I do! I could never separate you two. It's all Deb’s fault. If I saw a memory where you two were together I would have never even tried to keep you apart. Oh now I’m a mess.” Victor snapped and a door reading ‘YES’ appeared.

“Thank you, Victor,” Enjolras said shaking the figure’s hand. “Let’s go Grantaire.”

“Why… why did you do all this?” Grantaire found himself asking as they approached the door.

Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand in his, “You were there for me and I will not abandon you.”

“I would never have left you alone.” Grantaire said as Enjolras opened the door.

“And now I hope to do the same for you,” Enjolras smiled as they crossed to eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Consider leaving a comment with your thoughts below!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at aberrantangel.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to ask questions about my fics or maybe send me prompts for ficlets over there.


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